


A Three Flower Bouquet

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: (yay!), Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Domestic, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Much Foolishness All Around, Multi, Non-Vampire Cass, OT3, Preacher Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: Jesse's said before that their lives resemble the start of a bad joke: an ex-preacher, a rich wedding planner, and a foul-mouthed bum all walk into a flower shop...





	A Three Flower Bouquet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homelygrantaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homelygrantaire/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Homelygrantaire! I hope you enjoy your gift~

_Week One_

 

 

Jesse had once read in National Geographic that there were only six degrees of separation between him and every other person on Earth. A friend's colleague's niece's kindergarten buddy grew up to be the wife of the barista who once served the President a cappuccino, that sort of deal. He'd never put much stock in that kind of science-y nonsense, though it might go a long way towards explaining how the hell the three of them kept ending up in here together.

A former preacher, a bum, and a renowned wedding planner all walk into a flower shop...

"We're the beginning of a bad joke," Jesse muttered, hefting his watering can like a pistol. He aimed it at Tulip's head. "What can I do you two for?"

"I need BIG flowers," Cass said promptly at the same time that Tulip went, "The Montoya order." They turned to glare at one another. Jesse just shook his head.

And so the day began.

 

***

 

The first time Tulip walked into his shop she was all figurative fire and brimstone—except for the literal fire at the end of her cigarette. She'd commanded the small space with all the ferocity of an army general, laying out a series of rare and rather large orders that she'd need from him within the coming months. At no point did she give her name—which, Jesse would come to learn later, was because she assumed everyone should already knew it—and paid him no heed when Jesse insisted that this was too large a job for his small, out of the way establishment.

She needed tulips, dammit, and she needed them now.

Jesse had been wrist deep in soil at the time and he’d felt is oozing between his fingers, this woman already grating on his nerves, spine, and driving a steak straight through to the back of his skull. He had to take a deep breath and deliberately release his fists, lest he crush the fragile roots just a hairsbreadth below. Jesse turned with a smile.

"I've got some," he said, probably sounding less amiable and more like he was constipated. While passing a kidney stone. God he hated these richie-rich types. "I've also got a contact an hour out who can make up the rest, but it'll take a bit. Really, ma'am, you're better off hitting a larger store."

The look she'd turned on his was pure in its intensity. Jesse's shop was filled with a color and life that didn't belong in Annville's desert, but this woman didn't belong in his shop, not with that sharp tailored suit and three-inch heels. She'd torn the sunglasses from her face and for the first time Jesse got a look at searing black eyes.

"I'm Annville born and bred," she drawled. "I'm loyal."

Jesse couldn't help punctuating her words with a disbelieving laugh. " _You're_ Annville?"

"Fuck yes I am, you got a problem with that?" And one hand curled into a waiting fist, actually rearing back in preparation.

Oh damn. She _was_ Annville. Alright.

Jesse had raised his muddied hands in surrender and went behind the counter to clean up, getting the order forms ready as she prattled on about her work as a wedding planner, her name in the magazines, how the flowers had best be fresh despite the climate because the Livington's were _not_ an easygoing couple.

Jesse weathered her prattling about wanting whites, or maybe pinks, no, wait, maybe something two-toned, and each time she changed her mind it was another scratch out with the pen. By the time he actually got to flip the order around for her to sign it Jesse had determined that small town pride and stunning good looks didn't make up for this kind of nonsense.

Except then she signed Tulip O'hare and suddenly Jesse's day was _fantastic_.

"You're a Tulip," he said slowly, "in need of tulips..." Jesse looked up with a stunning grin and Tulip, bless her, just rolled her eyes instead of decking him good.

"Yeah, like I've never heard that one before." She threw his pen back on the counter. "I'll be here next Thursday. You'd best have my flowers."

"You doubt me?"

"Oh good god yes."

He'd laughed because yeah, their 'good god' had doubted him too and Jesse had eventually decided that growing things was better than sticking a dead, white collar on his neck every morning. He'd shed his chain like some kind of dog, mangy and still a little bit feral. But now Jesse had bright colors, heady scents, and the picture of someone like Tulip O'hare just begging that he come through for her. Jesse let his eyes follow the sharp lines of her bodyand thought that he could get used to this kind of clientele.

"Thursday then," he agreed. "It's a date."

"It's definitely not."

Tulip had put her cigarette out in his potted iris and honestly? If it had been anyone else Jesse would have had them leaving his store in pieces.

But she was something entirely.

 

***

 

Cass was something else too. Holy _shit_.

Jesse rubbed at his forehead, unconcerned that he was smearing soil over his skin. What had begun as a headache had blossomed (ha) into a migraine of epic proportions, all due to the skinny little twerp half sitting on his counter. Cass had come in for the first time exactly 69 minutes after Tulip left—a fact Jesse only knew because he was that obsessed with when he could close shop—and if that number didn't encompass the man's entire being, Jesse didn't know what would.

He'd known Cass for a handful of seconds. It was one handful too much.

"Back up," Jesse said. He sighed. "You want a cactus?"

"Yep."

"But mine are too _pretty_?"

Jesse gestured to the small collection of cacti sitting over by the windowsill, most of them in teeny-tiny pots that people found cute and not too intimidating to take care of. They still weren't overly popular though. People could see dry, prickly brush on their way to work everyday, or outside their bedroom window, free for the taking. No, they came to Jesse for the lush and the colorful, things he either had to import or that he grew himself, so slow that sometimes it was hard to part with them. No one in Annville wanted to buy a freaking cactus.

Except this asshole.

"Look at 'em!" Cass said. His voice held enough indignation that Jesse did look again, half expecting the view to change. "They're stupidly pretty. All fuckin' green an'... an' _small_." Cass pushed his hands palm to palm to demonstrate their smallness, looking pretty angry about it.

Jesse just stared. "...thank you?"

"It won't do. How they hell am I supposed to give Laura somethin' like that? She'll think I actually _like_ her." Cass shook his head despairingly. "The fuck am I supposed to do now?"

That day had felt like something straight out of the _Twilight Zone_. Jesse was a small town boy with a small town business and he'd gotten used to his routine over the years. That routine sure as hell didn't include a stranger than normal customer, let alone two back-to-back... and yet, let it never be said that Jesse Custer couldn't roll with the punches.

"One sec," he said.

Jesse's backroom was a mess of tools, soil, and vegetation. On his bench was a pot of very dead petunias, the poor things all shriveled and brown. It wasn't his fault the damn things were finicky in this weather and honestly Jesse wasn't bemoaning the loss of those pink flowers, not when they were that cheap to come by. The plan had been to take back the pot and move on. Now Jesse snagged the whole thing, a few dead leaves trailing behind him.

He set the pot down in front of Cass. "This Laura of yours... she the one down at the auto-shop?"

"Yeah! One in the same."

"That woman's a piece of work."

"You're telling me."

"So how about giving her this?"

It was surreal to be presenting that run-down plant like it was something actually worth selling, but sure enough Cass' eyes lit up at the prospect. In that moment Jesse saw the whole situation clearly, how a man like Cass might think that breaking things off with a shitty gift—rather than just some good, old fashioned honesty—might be the way to go. Decked out in a whole collection of ratty clothes, Cass looked like the kind of creative asshole you only ran into once in a blue moon. He wore at least three torn shirts that as a whole _nearly_ succeeded in covering his chest. His jeans were colored over in marker, like a freaking middle schooler's, and that was definitely weed doodled down on his left knee. The only reason Jesse knew his name was because Cass had a "Hello! My name is  ___ ___" sticker plastered on his stomach and he could only guess where he'd picked that up. Maybe one of the church's monthly events. It would fit. Jesse was pretty sure the guy was homeless. He kinda _smelled_ homeless.

"I had my heart set on a cactus," Cass sighed. "But I guess a dead thing is better than just a looks-dead thing. Here," he rummaged in his jeans and pulled out three super wrinkled dollars, jellybeans, and a nearly empty packet of Camels. "Does this cover the shit you weren't even planning to sell?"

Jesse raised an eyebrow as he slid the offering across the counter. He left the jellybeans. "How were you gonna pay me if you wanted the cactus?"

"Duh. Was gonna pay you with a kiss. Gotta move on sometime, don’t I?"

Cass winked, grabbed his dead plant, and sauntered out the door with what he probably thought was a seductive strut. Despite the absurdity, Jesse did find himself staring at Cass' ass.

"Aw hell," he said.

 

***

 

_Week Five_

 

 

In the two years since he'd chucked the collar, beat up a few old contacts, collected their funds, and started up his shop, Jesse hadn't seen anyone of particular interest come through the door. Emily often came in on the church's behalf, asking for whatever was fresh and cheap to put up front. Jesse honestly didn't know if she did that because they really didn't have the funds, or because she couldn't stand to look at him long enough to actually choose something herself. Probably both. She'd taking his defrocking worse than most.

Others mostly picked up flowers on their way to and from service. For their windowsills. Their gardens. Local weddings, funerals, stupid boys looking to make up with their girls (of which Cass was in the obvious minority). Jesse had resigned himself to a life of flower mediocrity until those two assholes had plowed through at sixty miles an hour.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't keep showing up _together_.

"I thought you ran a clean establishment, Jesse."

Tulip said it with all the rancor he'd come to expect of her, looking none too subtly at Cass’ grimy attire. A month had passed since she'd grudgingly complimented the tulips he'd provided and in that time she'd no more warmed to Cass than she had to dressing down. Today was a blue, pleated skirt; bright yellow top; killer heels and jewelry fine enough that it could probably feed Jesse for the rest of his miserable life.

Tulip kept a healthy distance between her fine clothes and Cass' scruffy self.

"It's a flower shop," he said. "These things grow in dirt." Cass shook a nearby plant for emphasis. " _Manure_ , luv. Or does your fancy little life not cover some literal day-to-day shit? If you do go is it on a porcelain throne?"

Jesse slowly and carefully leaned his head into his palm. It wouldn't do for Tulip to see him laughing.

He had to hand it to her though, she was a master of manipulation. Tulip kept scrolling through her iPhone, occasionally holding up some pic or another against one of Jesse's flowers, typing out some notes, took a pic of her own... it was only after three long, agonizing minutes had passed that she looked up and said blandly, "Sorry. Did you say something?"

"Jesus fuckin' christ."

"Better question." Jesse raised his hand like a schoolboy. "Are you two assholes actually going to buy something?"

"I like your orchids," Tulip said, for the first time actually taking her eyes off Cass. "But I think they're a little classy for the Taitts. They're humble folk, you know? They need something bright with those white table cloths, just nothing that's going to distract from Laura's dress—it's not a very nice dress, can't afford anything more eye-catching. I do worry about the bridesmaids upstaging her—so maybe those sunflowers. Yeah, over there..." She completely missed Cass 'yapping' with his hand behind her back.

"I've only got enough for five vases," Jesse warned.

"That's fine. Humble, like I said. They've only got enough people for five tables anyway."

As Tulip rummaged for her credit card Cass slipped to the floor (he'd been sitting on the table with the lilacs, a smudge of pale brown amongst all the purple) and sauntered up behind Tulip. Like a kid faced with a dog, too stupid to know he'd get bit, Cass curved his hands around her waist and leaned into Tulip's back. He pressed briefly there before peeking out over her shoulder.

Except miracle of fucking miracles, the pretty doggie didn't bite.

"Uh," Jesse said.

"You better be cleaner than you look," Tulip muttered, still shifting through her purse. Cass waved his arms in demonstration and wow. He _was_ clean. Relatively, at least. Jesse was still trying to re-boot his brain when Tulip said, "Ah!"

"No, no." Cass pushed her wallet back down. "This is on me, luv."

Tulip scoffed. "You can pay for five bouquets?"

"Well, not in the traditional sense, but Jesse and I have got a tab going, don't we?"

They most certainly did not. Cass' 'tab,' established after his first dead-plant purchase, consisted of promises he never kept and a pair of lethal puppy-dog eyes he wielded with precision. Over the last few weeks Jesse had given the man not perfect, but still serviceable flowers in exchange for all sorts of stupid trinkets and words. He liked to think that he gave Cass lilies and irises because he felt bad for the freeloader. It probably had more to do with Cass' obscenely pouty lips.

He was pouting right now, clearly begging Jesse to help a guy out. His arm moved numbly and somehow ( _dammit_ ) Jesse ended up signing over the month's largest order for free.

"Enjoy," he said automatically, still staring at Cass' hand wrapped just under Tulip's breast. There were 'thank you's and sly glances and when they finally left the shop, Jesse followed them like the scoundrel he was. An apron, muck boots, and pollen dusted t-shirt sort of ruined his look though.

Still, Jesse could move silent when he needed to and what he found in his spying were his two favorite customers hoofing it to Tulip's Fiat 124 Spider, a car so fucking immaculate that it had no place on Annville's dusty streets. It seemed a shame then for the two of them to immediately start defiling it, both literally and figuratively: Tulip hiking Cass up onto the hood of the car, straddling him as he kept them balanced, the kiss that sent flecks of spit down to sizzle on the paint job, Cass' muddied boots leaving streaks on the tire. It wasn't any voyeuristic guilt that finally turned Jesse away. Just the disappointment that neither of those figures were him.

Of course, all that changed when Cass came back twenty minutes later.

"Crush my sunflowers in your enthusiasm?" Jesse muttered, forgetting for a moment that good, respectable businessmen didn't follow their customers out of doors and watch them going at it like bunnies on a sheet of hot metal. He ducked his head over seed packets and thus missed Cass turning the little sign from 'open' to 'closed.'

In fact, Jesse determined not to notice Cass at all until he was making himself at home between his legs.

Cass dropped to his knees and looked up with a rakish grin. If there was a god in this world maybe he wasn't so disappointed in Jesse's career change after all.

"Told you I'd pay you back," Cass said. He pinched a mouthful of jeans between his teeth and tugged, running hands up under apron and shirt. "Just didn't say how, now did? Think this'll clear up my tab?"

The answer Jesse gave was tangled as a vine because by then Cass was pulling down the zipper, palming the wet spot on Jesse's jeans, breathing deep like he enjoyed the scent of both of them together. Jesse gave up on words entirely and when he looked up there was Tulip standing just outside the storefront, watching them with a cigarette between her lips. There was a sunflower in her hair. She caught Jesse's eye and winked.

"Fuck you both," Jesse muttered, tugging hard at Cass’ hair.

He pulled off only for a moment. “Pretty sure that’s the point, eh?”

 

***

 

_Week 13_

 

 

So. Those two showing up at the same time—probably not a coincidence after all.

"Do you even like each other?" Jesse asked one Saturday morning, re-potting a Peperomia. "Do you like _me_? I'm honestly curious."

"You're serviceable," Tulip said as Cass licked his finger and made a sizzling sound. Right. Jesse didn't know why he bothered. It wasn't like any of them were built for straight answers, the kind of lovey-dovey declarations you got in the movies and on TV. Besides, didn't actions speak louder than words and all that shit?

If they did, their actions told Jesse that they were both complete and utter assholes. Also that they had nowhere better to go.

"This place is awful on my allergies," Tulip moaned, pulling a Kleenex from her purse. "And I was supposed to Skype with a potential client an hour ago." She checked her phone and shrugged, too lazy to move from the tiny chair Jesse had dragged out from the back room. Tulip flapped her hand at her face in a sad attempt to start up a breeze. "And your air conditioning _sucks_."

"Non-existent," Jesse countered. "Its been busted for weeks. The hot house stuff likes it, but..." He trailed off, staring at Cass who'd scrounged up an ancient GameBoy. He leaned against Tulip's legs and periodically peeled her skirt off of his bare back. It was that kind of heat. "Hey. You could fix the damn thing. Earn your keep if you're gonna hang out here all day."

"No," Tulip said. She kept fanning her face, eyes closed.

"Maybe," Cass said. Which meant 'no.' Dammit.

"Excuse me?"

The three of them turned as an older woman snuck in through the door, opening it so slow and careful that the bell barely rung. Her nerves didn't seem to ease when she spotted Cass and Tulip. If anything, she looked like she wanted to sneak back out.

"Welcome to Flowerworks," Jesse said, hurrying up to the front. "Sorry. Ignore them. They're just friends of mine."

"Is that what we are?" Tulip murmured and Jess flipped her the bird behind his back. The client latched onto his arm as Jesse carefully guided her away from his two fools. Her hand was brittle and fluttered like a bird against his arm.

In fact, the entirety of her looked frail, too thin and breakable for a place like Annville. Hair that was white and thin as cotton candy waved about her shoulders, and her dress—powder blue with a sensible belt—hung on her awkwardly, too big despite the 'XS' tag Jesse could see peaking out from the collar. She looked like a good breeze or a decent curse would send her topping to the ground, and Jesse hurried her over to the remaining chair next to the chrysanthemums, lest she fall and break something here where awful things like suing might get involved. Jesse then took a healthy step back once she was settled. Old people gave him the creeps.

"It's good of you to come in, Mrs...?"

Her mouth worked silently. The woman looked up at Jesse and her expression told him that he'd said something unexpectedly shocking, crude even. Finally, she smiled, but it was a small, awful thing.

"Sawyer," she said. "But I suppose it's 'Ms.' now. My husband died last night."

Behind him, Jesse heard the strangled noise that Tulip made and Cass' tiny "...aw shit." Mrs. Sawyer didn't seem to hear. She reached out a bony hand and gripped the edge of Jesse's apron, the parody of a small child and her mum.

"Howard needs white lilies," she said urgently, gaining some energy. "Although, yes, he never expressed any interest in flowers. Said they were commercial gimmicks. What's the point in spending money on something that's just going to die?" Her voice broke hard on the last word. "But they're coming for him later and I can't leave his grave bare I just _can't_ I—"

"We have lilies," Jesse interrupted gently. He gripped her hand." Plenty of white."

"I woke up next to him," Mrs. Sawyer said. "I've done that every morning,” and all at once she sobbed and put her head between her hands.

This wasn't the first time Jesse had dealt with a distraught customer, but usually they were more composed than this: just slight, hiccupping cries or silent tears that slipped down the cheeks. He was used to anniversaries and useless birthdays, not the immediate aftermath. He floundered, turning to Cass and Tulip, only to find that their support was already underway. Tulip left at a brisk walk to the café down the street, returning with tea and plenty of chocolates. Cass filled the silence with any sort of prattle that seemed to soothe her. As Jesse bundled his best lilies in a black bow, he heard him telling Mrs. Sawyer that he'd once been a preacher. When she looked up with a disgusting amount of hope Jesse couldn't meet her eye.

Mrs. Sawyer left with their awkward condolences. She didn't pay a cent.

"Fucking hell," Cass said. He leaned into Jesse's shoulder as Mrs. Sawyer shuffled out of view.

"Yeah," Tulip agreed.

"What a mess she is. Like a broken doll or somethin'. It's fucking awful." He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and for once Jesse didn't yell at him for getting smoke around his flowers. Cass took a draw, passed it to him, and Jesse next passed it to Tulip. Cass blew the smoke up at the ceiling, nice and slow.

"Think that'll be us someday?" he asked.

"Can only hope so."

 

***

 

_Week 27_

 

 

Flower shops felt like they were always standing still. There was something about the slow growth of the plants, the heady scents that added a dream-like atmosphere, and the contrast to the outside world that made it all... removed. Despite flipping the 'open' sign to 'closed' each evening, Jesse had the distinct feeling that time never actually passed here. Maybe it was a quality that all stores possessed. Maybe it was just his.

Or maybe it had something to do with Tulip kissing him.

"Hey, hey, hey," she pulled back and pinched Jesse's side, merciless. "Don't fuck up the hair. I've got a video call at 2:00."

"Plenty of time to fix it," Jesse murmured, starting in on her neck instead.

"You obviously know nothing about hair care."

"I know some other things though..."

Tuesdays were always slow for some reason and Jesse felt no guilt in dragging Tulip to the back room, especially not after she'd been gone two weeks, supervising a wedding in Oklahoma. She's brought back a sweat-stained invitation and a piece of stale cake that Cass had still eaten with relish. He'd gone out to 'work' (hustling the locals at poker) while Tulip had remained.

She was something to behold now, stretched out across his table, her skirt hiked up and her shirt pulled down. Cass was quick blowjobs behind the counter and late night secrets he’d never admit to in the morning. Tulip was slow and worshipful. She gave you nothing but absolute focus. It was rare for any of them to end up in an actual bed.

Jesse slid off the end of the table so he could put his mouth to work below. Tulip's thighs were the color of his soil, stretch marks pale like veined leaves, she trembled as gently as a petal.

He stupidly wanted to tell her that she was prettier than any flower in this store. Jesse knew she'd kick him for it.

Panting, Tulip propped herself up on one elbow and grinned. She reached behind her, fumbled, and snapped off the plant nearest to her. It was a little spring of aster.

"Got you a flower," she whispered.

"You stole it from me."

"Do you care?"

He really, really didn't.

 

***

 

_Week 52_

 

 

Six degrees of separation. They couldn't brag about knowing the president or the pope, but fate had certainly brought three distinct people together. More importantly, it refused to let them go.

"We should go on a trip." Cass said it with all the enthusiastic optimism of a toddler. "Just fuckin' drive outta this joint for a while. You know, see the sights, take in the open road, go all the way to the sea." He raised his hand and squinted, the horizon just beyond his reach.

Jesse snorted. "And who's paying for this idiotic romp?"

"Don't need no cash. You just drive an' shit. Take whatever you're given."

"Just drive," Jesse said. "With that gas you can't pay for. On the food we can't buy—"

"Don't be a shit spoil-sport about it."

"I'm rich," Tulip offered. She looked up from her phone when the room was silent too long. "What? I am. So if we're going anywhere it's in something nicer than whatever beat-up trash you're picturing."

"A _camper_."

"Absolutely not."

"Where would we go?" Jesse asked, because suddenly it all seemed possible, in as much as the three of them ever planned for anything. Not just the trip either, but that they'd be around each other long enough for more trips. Vacations. Growing old. Life.

"Anywhere." Cass skipped around the room until he found the oxeye daisies. He plucked one and not for the first time Jesse marveled that he wasn't run out of business by these two.

"Who'd watch the store?"

Tulip shrugged. "Wait it out. Cancel orders for a while, sell what you have, give a few things to Emily. She can keep them in the church..." For once Tulip wasn't smirking or glowering his way. "It'll be here when we get back."

"Suppose it will," and just like that Cass knew he had won.

He slid back onto the counter, messing up papers and knocking the poor cash register nearly off the side. Cass twirled the daisy between his fingers before plucking off a petal.

"Hey!" but before Jesse got indignant, Cass spoke.

"He loves me, he loves me not. _She_ loves me, she loves me not..."

Oh. Alright. So the three of them watched, confident in where they'd finally land.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
